The Psyche Trial
by Sukidasu
Summary: When it comes to love, Nico di Angelo would be happy to leave it behind. But love has it's own agenda, does it not? After a disastrous shadow traveling event that exhausts him into a deep sleep, he's visited by the ever so lovable cherub of war. When offered a different type of help, Nico follows a path of want and will, guilt and desire, and the painful effects of being loved.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I solemnly swear that the characters, or much of the premise of this little tale is neither mines and ne'er shall I claim to ever have come up with such wonderful, wonderful characters. Nico di Angelo and handsome co. go to Mr. Rick Riordan and all that legal mumbo jumbo, who I worship day and night for reminding the world why Greek Mythology had withstood the test of time. A formal bow to such a wonderful writer, and deep apology if it he ever happens to read this and becomes affronted at a silly fangirls delusions.

**Warning: **Nothing to warn you about here. Except the ever present danger of me completely fucking up.

**Note: **Strange concept, I know, but I've read stranger. After reading the House of Hades and coming upon that delicious little scene between Nico di Angelo and Cupid and the whole " I love Percy " bit, the birth of that ship was sailing and sailing strong. As for the plot of this piece of work, I intend for it to fluctuate. Which means don't go thinking you'll be getting big fat five thousand plus chapters-I honestly don't know what came over me with this, but whatever did, you should be happy. Most chapters probably won't exceed a thousand words. After the first five chapters or so, the story will go the drabble route, building up in a loose plot that will eventually tie up together. I only hope I don't lose my reader. Otherwise, enjoy, and review, oh how I appreciate reviews.

**A tale of love: **Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.

* * *

**[ Chapter One: Love is haunting ]**

Nico collapsed as soon as he materialized onto hard ground. There wasn't any sort of transition between melting from the shadows and hitting hard, unyielding grass. As soon as the shadows relinquished the demigod, his face was making an instant bee line for the ground. Shadow travel had always been hard ,but, after traveling himself, Reyna, Coach Hedge, and a forty foot Greek statue, he could easily say that_ hard_ would never be enough to describe shadow traveling again. The sheer exhaustion that coursed through him was enough to make Nico di Angelo want to pass out for another week. He couldn't feel his arms or his legs or any part of himself except for his chest, where burning agony had erupted in sharp pinpricks that made breathing next to impossible. It was like swallowing several gallons of the Phlegethon river-leaving out the healing part.

In between passing in and out of consciousness, he heard the distant scream of a familiar satyr, blaring at the top of his lungs something that sounded like "Come and get some, nasties!"

If he could still feel it, Nico's stomach would have churned over with dread. Reyna had been correct when she said the monster attacks would be many. Through tunnel vision, Nico tried to coax his unwilling body to stand and join Reyna and Coach Hedge in the attack that awaited them, but his body was paralyzed. If possible, his skin had become whiter, nearly translucent under the pale moonlight above. A fever had quickly taken over, making the fourteen year old scorching to the touch. A sharp contrast to what most believed about the son of Hades-that he was cold, like the dead that he reigned over. In his current state, it would be easy to fathom that he would soon be joining the likes of the departed. The same thought seemed to be at the forefront of the roman praetor as she knelt beside his crumbled body and pressed a small square of ambrosia to his deathly pale lips. Usually, Nico abhorred contact. He rejected it like an allergy.

"Stay with me di Angelo!" Reyna's voice echoed through the veil of fever and pain, reverberatingin Nico's ear-something he had grown to hate about the living, really. They were_ so _noisy. She screamed something else, coaxing the ambrosia roughly into his mouth. Something sweet, perhaps chocolate, lingered on his tongue as the divine snack was ingested. Warmth soon flowed into his veins, pushing the pain in his chest back to a dull throb that nestled in his heart, synchronizing with each feeble thump that it gave, a brittle _whump whump whump _that circulated blood and torture through his veins.

Truth be told, he had never been the same after his time in Tartarus. Shadow traveling something as large as the Athena Parthenos a couple of hundred of miles was only a reminder of how broken Nico actually was-the pit had stolen something from the demigod, something that could never be reclaimed. He felt, most of the time, like broken glass that had been haphazardly glued back together. Any second, he would break. He wondered on a delirious half conscious level if he had broken. Breaking was always easier than staying whole.

The ambrosia did good enough to mend him ,although, he was in no condition to move. A cool hand fluttered over his skin, probing and prodding before Reyna whispered in his ear "Good job, di Angelo. Let me handle this." Tendrils of messy black hair clung to his forehead in a sickly manner, plastered there by sweat. The danger of dying was now behind him, but there was still that crippling fatigue that wrapped sleepy fingers around Nico's consciousness and dragged him off into nothing. The last thing he heard before everything went completely dark was a guttural howl of rage followed by the metallic screech of blade on blade.

[ *** ]

It felt like ages since he'd dreamed; that didn't mean anything. He was a demigod after all, and the dreams would never, ever end for them . His dreams were a cluttered mess of tidbits, forgotten as soon as they were witnessed. A spinning abyss of madness that he was, frighteningly, becoming accustomed to.  
Then, all of a sudden, they weren't.

He found himself back in the familiar ruins of a fallen city, overtaken by nature's hand. Around him were the remains of crumbled walls, foundations, and roads, all wrapped up in the unperturbed grip of vine and moss and weeds. A trickle of foreboding settled itself in Nico as he placed a name to the ruins of Split, Croatia. Pale fingers inched towards his Stygian iron sword, wrapping around the hilt as he tensed-Split was not his favorite spot. It was right next to Tartarus on his list of top five places he never wanted to see again. He half expected to see Jason Grace there as well, blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight. The son of Jupiter wasn't there, but, Nico did have company. His companion made it apparent in the whispered hisses of laughter that carried on dead wind. Nico's mouth tasted like dry limestone. There wasn't even any guessing as to whom-or what-might seek an audience with the son of Hades.

Nico was sure that after meeting Cupid, of all the immortals, possibly even Gaea, he despised him most of all. Cupid was nothing like a good portion of the world believed him to be. The god was cryptic, and frightening, and a soldier of war. Nico waited for Cupid to speak; he wouldn't speak first. If he could help it, he would gladly avoid his audience with the god. Another airy snicker passed by his ear, chillingly close. Quivers of disgust crept under Nico's skin. The last time he and the god of Love had encountered it had been a moment in Nico's life that he never wanted to relive again. Thinking back, he felt it all with aching clarity-the misery, the shame, the humiliation of having his secret of secrets revealed before Jason Grace, someone who he wasn't exactly one hundred percent chummy with.

_What, oh what, are you pondering upon little demigod? Are you wondering as to why you are here? _Cupid's voice shook with the timbre of a rich and powerful bass. He was close, that much was definite, although he was invisible so there was no actual telling where he was. Recalling just how cuddly and friendly Cupid had been in their last encounter, Nico drew his sword. The black blade hissed as if it, like its master, hated the god of love's guts. Nico wondered if the Stygian blade could cut down divinity's, like it could giants and other immortals. He wouldn't mind sticking it in Cupid just to try it out.

_Won't speak, now will we? _The disembodied voice taunted, closer to Nico than he expected.

The demigod jumped , pivoting on his heels as he drew his blade in an arc, aiming to slice Cupid in half. Another hiss of laughter sliced through the air. Nico scowled, features contorting in a face that would've earned Hades approval. He felt stupid, like a skinny white kid wielding a big sword at nothing. Cupid had not only proven to be a jerk of mega proportions-he was also proving to be ridiculously annoying. The demigod hated being played with like a puppet. Nico had had enough of that in his life. He would never forgive Cupid for his meddling. His sister, Bianca, had once said that holding a grudge was Nico's fatal flaw. He didn't care right then. He wanted to cause some godly pain.

"What do you want?" he snarled, teeth bared as he strained to hear anything that would indicate that Cupid was close. His hold on his sword was a vise grip, poised, ready for any attack that might come his way. "Why are you even here?" he added, spitting the words.

_On the contrary, Nico di Angelo, _the boy tilted his head in the direction that the voice was coming from, messy black hair curtaining his young white washed face, _It's what you want from me. _

The absurdity of the statement stunned Nico to the point where the grip on his Stygian iron sword went slack. A dry "ha" escaped him as he thought about what in Tartarus could he want from Cupid. It wasn't even about his status as the son of the Underworld's ruler. It was about how his grudge against Cupid would last forever and he would rather become a shade than accept the mere idea that he needed something from the divine jerk.

"What would I want from _you" _he replied, tone harder than steel

_Everything, _Cupid responded bluntly _it all ties together, little demigod._

"Don't call me that." Nico barked

_Oh? How harsh. And here I thought we were getting along swimmingly_

"What do you want from me?"

_We can banter like this forever. I have no idea as to what I might have done to insult you, Nico di Angelo, and I don't care. I offer my help and you scorn it. How crass. _

Another scowl. There was that whole "I totally did not make you admit you're gay" bit that Cupid was so casually brushing off as bad memory, and then there was that "helping" part. The demigod strictly recalled Cupid spouting something inscrutable about being on no one' s side, yet being on all sides. Nico didn't understand why the god might have a sudden change of heart-and interest. Love _was_ Cupid's business. He seemed to have quite the interest in Nico specifically. He didn't like that. And he didn't believe for one second that Cupid meant help-really, in the long run, when had the gods ever truly helped? The examples were everywhere, strewn all over time and history, written in each demigod's life. There was also that dangerous feeling of being exploited. Nico had been naive before, gullible even. He never wanted to be that way again.

"Why would you want to help us all of a sudden?"

Another chuckle followed by _Oh, there is no ' us' in this. I don't offer my help in the war that is to come between Gaea and the Olympians. Love is on no side. Love is on every side. That's just the way things work. The truth of the matter is, _you _need _my_ help, demigod. _

His hold on his Stygian iron sword tightened again. "When did I ever say I wanted your help?"

_But you do. I'm willing to help, poor little di Angelo_

"And why are you so helpful, Cupid?" Nico couldn't help the drip of disdain in his tone.

An audible sigh, as if the god grew tired of Nico's hesitance and suspicion. _Cupid? You're addressing the wrong name._

Nico blanched in understanding. The lilt of Cupid's voice was almost satin, a vocal caress to that rich quality. Plenty of gods, especially the main Olympians, were split between their Roman and Greek aspects, warring against themselves. The gods were molded from what humans believed them to be-as civilization changed, so did they. Minor gods weren't affected nearly as much, since they weren't tended to as majorly as the main gods. But Cupid? Nico had completely forgotten that Cupid was Roman.

"Eros," he stated "You're Eros."

Another laugh, something that wasn't far from the usual harsh peal that Cupid gave. Eros wasn't very different from his Roman aspect, at least, from what Nico could tell.

_Correct, Nico di Angelo, _Eros chimed, that powerfully angelic voice just a bare breathe against Nico's cheek. The demigod jabbed with his sword at where he thought Eros might be, because Eros or Cupid, he still wanted to make a shish kabob out of the immortal.

_The Romans, as in many aspects of their culture, were austere in their adoration of love. _

_Humorous, how my Roman persona weathered the years so well. It's been forever since I awoke and saw myself in this form. The Greeks, they were were always more open minded, jovial with their worship of love. _Eros spoke fondly, as if speaking about his massive split personality disorder was something special.

"Well, I don't care" the ground beneath Nico began to turn brown, the atrophy of unstable emotions claiming coherent thought. It was always harder controlling his powers as a demigod when he couldn't keep himself stable. "Leave me alone. You got what you wanted. I faced my fear. I admitted everything."

_Do you? _Eros's voice had turned questioning and somber. A change that would have plucked the heart strings of more sentimental men. To Nico, it was just another trick. _Do you really understand? Facing your fear is the first step to conquering love. But have you, Nico di Angelo? What do you want? Why are you fighting? What side are you on? Your tribulations are crushing. Why push yourself through such torture?_

The Stygian sword hissed, frost seething from its blade as it ached to bite into flesh. Anger reared its ugly head inside of Nico. He didn't need to be reminded of his problems. He certainly didn't need to be told that he had yet to conquer them. He told himself he knew what he wanted to do, that there was a reason to fight. He wanted to stop Gaea, keep the world in one peace, and then disappear forever. He belonged nowhere, wasn't accepted for who he was or what he was. As a son of Hades, he would always be an outcast. He understood what people thought of him-that skinny white boy with powers over death. Who liked that? Who wanted to be around that? Only the dead respected him, and that was out of fear. Packed underneath the earth were the deceased. Like in the real Split, they turned restlessly in their eternal slumber, summoned unintentionally by Nico's instability.

"I don't need your help!" he spat, voice acidic "I never, ever wanted your help. You have no business with me anymore so just go away"

_Is that so? _That infuriatingly somber tone was still there as Eros responded, _So tell me, why is your heart so sick?_

Splotches of uneven rose colored Nico's cheeks, frustration nestling itself in the sharp frown carved into his skin.

_You radiate bitterness. It's not exactly subtle. Everything about you seems to be miserable. Yet you say this isn't my business? Love is my business. Where it goes, in whatever form, whatever amorphous piece of your life it reaches will mean that it is rightfully my jurisdiction. Forever._

Nico shuddered at that last part, his brief bout of blush flushed away by the thought. He loathed to know that Eros would always follow him, stick his godly nose in business that shouldn't be his right to snoop in. Nico's eyes, sunken in and glassy, echoed old fear that had never healed. He feared so many things-himself, most of all. He feared his feelings. Feared how deeply they could run, how much they could affect him. How confused he could get, mind befuddled by what he wanted and what was right. The bitter feeling of rejection. The misery of being used and manipulated. His love for his father that was never enough. That impressionable infatuation he had with Percy Jackson-and how despite everything he'd said to Jason, he wasn't over it. Bianca was right. There just wasn't any letting go-it was like he was mired and drowning in himself and no one could save him. And worst of all was the fear that Eros knew him so well, could tell Nico everything about himself that he was still too scared to see.

He sucked in a shuddering breathe, squeezing his eyes shut. How he hated how easy it was for Eros to get what he wanted. Tartarus had made it so, so easy for Nico to become unhinged; it had aided in the corrosion of his mind, and the laceration of his feelings. He was both sensitive and impenetrable, wanting yet unwilling. He let loose a cry of rage, hacking at nothing in particular, at some point even slicing into a crumbling column, sending it crashing down in a pile of age old dust and debris. He hated, hated, hated Eros.

_You believe that I am cruel? _The god added _Love is cruel. It can be blind, but the reality of love is very, very cruel. It's in my nature. I can't change. Love isn't meant to change._

"Shut up!" Nico hissed, stomping his foot. There was a sharp yanking in his gut as fissure split open, spewing forth rubble and dead. "You're nothing like what love should be_!_" Such disrespect usually earned any haughty demigod a healthy dose of divine retaliation. Nico would've welcomed any godly punishment. He just wanted Eros to stoptalking.

_You can't tell me what I am. You don't know yourself. How do you understand me? I'm many things Nico di Angelo. I am hardly ever a lie. _

Pegasus crap, if you asked Nico. It had been a lie when Bianca had assured Nico she wasn't abandoning him. It had been a lie when he had put his trust in Percy. It had been a lie, his whole entire life. Too many times had he accepted a lie; love was proving no different. Skeletons dragged themselves from the mini chasm, bleached bones and all, struggling to right themselves as they began to hobble about aimlessly, searching for the object of their summoner's distress.

"Go away! "

The silence that followed reached a crescendo that lead Nico to think perhaps the god had actually taken a hike. The skeletons groped around aimlessly, silent except for the clicking sound of ancient joints trying to function once more. The young demigod exhaled, waving his hand in a manner that caused the skeletons to collapse in on themselves and turn to dust. He was tired again, and reminded of what was going on in the real world-Reyna and Coach Hedge holding off monster attacks as he played jester to the lord of love. He wanted to wake up and vent his anger off on some monsters but when the dream hadn't ended or melted away into another he knew, with dismay, that Eros wasn't done. Hefting his blade once more, he waited.. If Eros really wanted to help him that bad, he was going to have to beat Nico down.

_You don't know what you want. You still don't understand yourself. You are bitter, rejected, hurt, but you still will not become the master of your emotions. You accepted your love for Percy Jackson. Everything since then has been in the name of love. Til now you are conflicted, so conflicted. What do you want, Nico? Your reason for fighting? Will you understand yourself, or retreat to the Underworld and waste away with the dead? Why save the world when you intend to disappear soon after?_ When Eros finally quieted down, there was another impregnable silence. Nico had become a statue, ivory and immovable, serious in all his gaunt glory. Why did Eros care so much about Nico's state of being? He wasn't one of the seven. He wasn't even a member of the _Argo II_ anymore. His goal was to return the Athena Parthenos to Camp Half-Blood, stop a war, and then disappear. Why bother him so much?

Another thing about Eros. He wore Nico down quickly.

"And what kind of help would you even offer?" he responded, grudgingly breaking his abstinence of sound.

_The Psyche Trial_

"The what?"

_Psyche was once a mortal woman, so beautiful, others began to worship her as Aphrodite re birthed-_

Clicking his tongue sharply, Nico interjected "Yeah, yeah, I know who Psyche is. She's your immortal wife and whatnot, right?"

A touch of annoyance pierced that perfect voice as Eros answered _Yes, she is my wife._

"And what are the Psyche Trials?" He didn't want to sound dense. The name alone sounded like a test of sorts. Nico remembered the tale of Cupid and Psyche. Psyche, once a really pretty woman, loved by many yet hated by Aphrodite became Cupid's bride. To make things simple, she betrayed Cupid's trust, and had to go through a ton of work under Aphrodite to earn her love back. The tale of Psyche didn't sound like it had anything to do with Nico—then again, hardly any of the old tales had anything to do with anything. Only one thing stood out and that was the heavenly intervention. Which wasn't necessarily good.

_Psyche underwent several tasks, you know. They weren't easy. She only completed thembecause she was aided along the way._

Nico didn't care about Eros's love story. It was at the bottom of things he would never give a flying Minotaur about. Shifting from one foot to the other, jaw set, he said "So that's it? Psyche took on some quest and you want me to do the same?"

_Oh, never, no. You don't have what it takes to accomplish what Psyche accomplished, demigod. _

Eros let loose a sigh bursting with such affection it nearly made Nico sick. Eros was more expressive, apparent in the pitch of his bodiless voice. The sigh undulated with wanting and satisfaction that spoke volumes-who else to understand the sanguine touch of love but the god himself? Nico didn't want to wonder how someone like Psyche, considered so beautiful she could rival Aphrodite, could ever fall for a monster like Eros. A warrior on the battlefield of love, it was like Aphrodite and Ares hooking up. It just didn't click in Nico's mind. Then again, divine relationships never made sense, and there was no point in attempting to understand what Psyche and Eros had.

"Then what exactly would happen on this quest?"

_The Psyche Trial in itself is more of a quest than a trial. What you receive out of this quest is completely up to what you seek. _

The words mentally prodded, Nico replied "Thanks, but no thanks, I already have something else to do. You know, stopping a war, that is kind of important. Besides, I've never actually gone on a quest, so, I wouldn't want to make something like the Psyche Trial my first."

A shove that could have been mistaken for a gust of wind sent Nico skittering back a few steps. A grit of teeth as he caught his footing, Stygian iron gleaming in its dark majesty as it sliced through the air, cutting only emptiness

_Foolish boy, _Eros spat _You didn't hear me the first time. I said this was a quest of love. To love, neither time or space matters. Consider it whatever you want, but this is important. Important to the wellness of the heart, something that you can't seem translate, seeing as you're still clinging to that repression of yours. _

A grim smile worked its way onto Nico's face-he'd heard tales of such quests. One's that transcended both time and space and possibly history, paying no mind to the natural order of things. He scoffed at the idea that Eros could wield such power, or even know of such a quest. They were highly, highly dangerous and had a mortality rate of about one hundred percent. Demigods that took it faced a zero percent chance of ever coming back alive. And if they did, they were never the same again. The irony in it all was how the Psyche Trial sounded like plunging into Tartarus all over again, omitting of course, it was all for the sake of "love"

_You're smiling, _Eros commented _You like what you hear? This is no easy task, Nico di Angelo. The Psyche Trial won't be like anything you've ever faced. You think you've been played with? You think you've faced the biggest and the baddest? Mark my words when I say this, little demigod, you haven't experienced a quest until its a quest of love. _

"That doesn't mean I like what I hear" he held his tongue about the Tartarus part. Something that was much more wicked than the pit of all pits? There was certainly room for disbelief. He saw Eros as he had seen Cupid. A handsome young man, lean and perfect, with blood red eyes. He was definitely frightening, yet, compared to Tartarus and its endless legion of nightmares of every ghoulish extreme, Nico didn't think that the Trial could be as hard as Eros boasted. "This doesn't mean I accept."

_Won't accept?_ Outrage was becoming apparent in that velvet tongue. Another shove, quickly parried by an expectant blade. There was the sound of Stygian iron crossing flesh, close to cutting. Nico grunted, doubling over as another blow sent him reeling away. _This is for you, Nico di Angelo. You need this help. You will destroy yourself if you can't grapple away from the mass of ugly emotion that is leeching the life out of you. I can never say you will be completely free. That isn't for me to decide-_

"It isn't" He retorted, slashing his sword near where he deduced Eros might be "That's the point!It isn't for you to decide what or how I deal with my feelings. You meddled enough before. Just go away! I don't need anymore advice from you!"

He inhaled sharply as an unseeable kick to the stomach sent him crashing on his back. Breathing hard, he noticed pricks of poignant white dots flashing in his eyes. He rolled over on his belly, thinking to himself that he would rather die in his dream than acknowledge that Eros was right. He didn't want to take the Psyche Trial, or be some pawn in whatever subtle scheme the lord of love had in mind. That was another thing about gods. They offered aid, claiming that it was in the best interest of others, when they usually had their own agenda's to get to. Even his own father had upheld that standard. Struggling to his feet was like trying to stand on legs that weren't there anymore.

With the divine though, there simply wasn't any getting around them. When they wanted something, they **wanted** it. He was reminded of Persephone and the unfinished sword of Hades. Percy and Thalia had been there alongside him, and although Nico had been ready to do the task, for the sake of Hades, Percy and Thalia had been reluctant. Still they had done it, because there was no getting around what the goddess wanted. And Eros was the same right then, hell bent on having Nico take on his quest. The idea was insane, it sounded stupid and dangerous-

Just like everything else in his life.

"Fine!" he shouted, tasting gritty dirt on his tongue "Fine! You want me to take the Psyche Trial. I'll do it!"

A grim response of _Oh, do you now?_

There just wasn't any pleasing Eros.

"Yeah!" Nico replied, his sword hand going lax as to show a physical symbol of his surrender.

"I'll do it. You said it didn't work like most quests, right?"

_There is no time or space when it comes to-_

"I get it, I get it!" Nico snapped "I accept your Psyche Trial, Eros."

_Was there any other way? _Triumph clearly thundered in that mighty timber.

"But." Nico stated, forcing himself to halt the shaking that had begun in his bones, rattling him like a skeleton

_But?_There was a foreboding quiver in that one word echoed back.

"But, if I complete the Psyche Trial, you swear on the river Styx you won't stick your nose in my business anymore."

A jeer that resounded in the very air, _Impossible. My nature takes me wherever it goes. You think even the Styx can stop love? _

"Then I won't take the Trial and you and I can fight here till I wake up."

A lethal thing, trying to give a god an ultimatum. He was gunning on how badly, for whatever reason, Eros wanted him to take the Psyche Trial. No one, god or mortal, though, could make Nico do anything he didn't want to; especially if he hated them with the passion that flamed with the power of fire. He would rather die, or get hurt, or whatever other option there was, then do anything for the one person he held a grudge against. It was vainglory that could easily become his death, but to live with the knowledge of doing something for Eros out of the goodness of his heart-Nico thought not.

_Very well, di Angelo. _

"Swear it," he pressed "Swear on the Styx that you won't ever personally mess with me after the Psyche Trial" He combed through his wording. Personally implied that Eros himself would never be able to cause something like this again-something like spilling his secrets. But it was the best he could think of right on the spot.

_I swear on the River Styx that I, Eros, god of Love, will never dabble in your life ever again after you complete the Psyche Trial, Nico di Angelo. _

The deal was done. Nico swallowed, thinking about just how good it felt to think that Eros would never bother him again. Throat sore, he asked "When do I begin"

Lingering silence before, _I cannot say. Oh, and little demigod. There is no failure in this either complete it, or you'll never be the same again. Love works in a way where you either cherish it, experience it, endure it, or let it die but it never fades. Love is eternal. Remember. This is a quest of the heart; what you receive is what you're searching for. _

Excellent directions considering the nature of the Trial. Nico held his tongue; the fight had drained out of him, like blood oozing from a boil that had finally festered and popped. If there was one less nuisance in his life, then that would make it easier. There was a hollow moment, when he knew that the god had left, and he stood there alone, shuddering as he thought about what exactly could await him; as morose as ever, he mused that it probably wasn't something good. It hardly ever was. all of three seconds had passed, however, before the dream began to unravel at its tangible seams and then darkness once more.

* * *

**Concluding Note: **The jitters of a first chapter! They're quite daunting, aren't they? Especially writing for a fandom that I've never written for. But yes, I fear that I've fallen in love with poor little Nico and his sticky predicament and I've always had quite the fun writing about a pair that seems impossible. Remember, young grasshoppers, nothing is impossible but the world impossible itself, because in the end, its an oxymoron of sorts. Eh-that made no sense. Anyways, this was originally typed up October, 13 and revised over the course of several days, and combed over and over again and cried over and the whole tribulation of writing first time fanfiction for a character. Forgive any OOC, alert me to any spelling and grammar issues, and do read! Thank you and I hope to update soon. This chapter is exactly 5,644 words.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I solemnly swear that the characters, or much of the premise of this little tale is neither mines and ne'er shall I claim to ever have come up with such wonderful, wonderful characters. Nico di Angelo and handsome co. go to Mr. Rick Riordan and all that legal mumbo jumbo, who I worship day and night for reminding the world why Greek Mythology had withstood the test of time. A formal bow to such a wonderful writer, and deep apology if it he ever happens to read this and becomes affronted at a silly fangirls delusions.

**Warning: **Nothing to warn here. Other than the ever present problem of me fucking up.

**Note: **Oh dear, seems like I gave too vague of a note for the first chapter. I don't want people getting the notion that this will be a Nico/Eros thing. I don't believe I have such great writing capabilities as to write something of that proportion. [ makes for an interesting plot though ]. No, readers, I believe this will be just a good old fashioned Nico/Percy thing. Enjoy.

**A tale of love: **Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind and therefor is winged Cupid painted blind.

* * *

**[ Chapter Two: Love is tottering ]**

Then there was falling. Into oblivion, into nothing, who could say-he was in a half state of mind, finding that his limits were not ground but pure open abyss that would never seem to end. Heart in throat, a small forever dragged on as Nico fell, and fell, and fell, and fell. In his falling there was a stagnating prostration of limb and mind; he couldn't think straight, he couldn't see straight, he couldn't breathe straight. He thought that he might have actually fallen into Tartarus all over again and that was the worst. He wanted to scream, but there was no air. He wanted to be saved but in that dusk there was no hand.

[ *** ]

Nico awoke with a start, eyes snapping open. His first reaction was to scream, let loose an awful howl of fear and desperation. Pupils dilated, several seconds passed afore he could distinguish between pure darkness and the simple dour gray of a light-less room. Breathing turned shallow he thought to calm himself down, pull himself from that nightmare of a dream or reality or whatever it had been. He shivered at the thought of falling-into what he didn't even bother wondering about. Turning over in bed, he drew his knees to his chest, cold and alone.

It was another minute or so till he realized that the last he remembered, he'd crashed onto solid dirt. Blinking, in sudden search for the stars that were not there, he propped himself up so that he could sit, and swallowing, because his tongue was very dry, he looked around. Having adjusted to the darkness his gaze could see pretty well in gray places. After all, he spent much of his time in a place where the sun didn't shine.

What greeted him was a room: silent in the night. He studied it with confusion and suspicion. You didn't just wake up in a random bed every day of your life now did you? ( unless you were a demigod—which sadly, he was. )

Breathe reaching a crescendo of panicked intake, his fingers began to search about restlessly. He couldn't sit still knowing that he was no where near where he had last been. There was no sign of Reyna or Coach Hedge or the Parthenos. Unless of course they were hiding under the bed, which Nico highly doubted. Fingers pawed against the cool fabric of the duvet as he searched for his sword. His fingers came across something at last. It wasn't his sword. Digits wrapped around something soft, something warm, something human. Nico recoiled, his allergy to touch rearing its guarded head. If there hadn't been good enough reason to freak out, now there was, considering he was taking a siesta_ with someone else. _

He snapped his gaze on the other side of the bed, where sure enough there was a sleeping figure, all cuddled up and snug. Nostrils flaring, the demigod resisted the urge to greet his bed mate with a rude awakening. No one, and he meant no one, got in a bed with Nico di Angelo. The only person who had ever had the guts to do so was his sister and that had been long ago. He racked his mind, sluicing through memories like lethal water, thinking as far back as he could. There was nothing in his mind about going to sleep with anyone and if so, there had better damned be a good reason. He came across an inner blank that couldn't be explained. He remembered shadow traveling and its woeful after effects and then-**blank**. On edge, he peered closer, straining to get a good glimpse.

It turned out a closer inspection would not be needed. There was a movement that caught him off guard, a dangerous thing to do with a skittish ADHD son of Hades. Innate reflexes kicked in before there was complete understanding of what he was doing. His hand was clamped against the stranger's mouth before he knew he had done it.

"Who in Hades are you?" he snapped, going in stride with what was already in motion

A muffled sound issued from that suppressed mouth, followed by the grip of fingers wrapping around Nico's own wrist. He winced, his abhorrence for touch enough to cause him pinpricks of pain. The hand jerked his own away in a firm grip. In the darkness there was a clicking sound and then light

Pale slender rays chased away the gray and illuminated a strange scene. Nico di Angelo; suspicious and pale and stressed. He was rigid, ready for anything

But _that._

Fluorescent light high lighted a visage that had worn the years; like fine wine he had aged only to become better. Tanned skin, bed hair, all of it was still the same. But he himself, oh he was older. Nico could tell just by staring. The only thing that was the same were the eyes-sea green. Now those, no matter what, would be eternal.

Overwhelmed by it all, Nico could only stare, blinking at Percy who at the same time was not Percy. Finally, a small parting of his lips as he breathed

_"Oh gods, what's happening."_

* * *

**Concluding Note: **This chapter was written under the theme of **"Overwhelmed**". I was bored and in need of some inspiriation to get words onto paper-or, erm uh laptop. Anyways, from time to time I will randomnly generate a number from [ 2011/09/25/100-themes-challenge-writing-prompts/ at kathrineroid at wordpress ] because I rather enjoy the list. They're challenging and make good for trying to forge a decent plot. This chapter was written on October 20th and read and revised. Notify me of any grammatical errors or spelling errors and do read! This chapter is exactly 859 words.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I solemnly swear that the characters, or much of the premise of this little tale is neither mines and ne'er shall I claim to ever have come up with such wonderful, wonderful characters. Nico di Angelo and handsome co. go to Mr. Rick Riordan and all that legal mumbo jumbo, who I worship day and night for reminding the world why Greek Mythology had withstood the test of time. A formal bow to such a wonderful writer, and deep apology if it he ever happens to read this and becomes affronted at a silly fangirls delusions.

**Warning: **Nothing to warn you about here. Except the ever present danger of me completely fucking up.

**A tale of love: **When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth.

* * *

**[ Chapter three: Love is passing ]**

Several impregnable minutes tick on by till the the torture of silence becomes suffocating, finally shattered by the hoarse whisper of,

"Who are you?" A silly rhetorical question. Percy, who subsequently was not the Percy he knew, gawked in confusion, as if he were wondering what torpid effect sleep still had on Nico.

"Uh...Percy,"

"And—and who am I?"

Another absurd question. But to Nico, one of them, either he or Percy was not real. If was Percy was real, then Nico was not. If Nico was real, Percy was not. He was spun, twisted, bended in some horrible paradox.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Who am I?" he repeats, eyes glittering as if he's contracted the augue. He knows who he is; he remembers. He needs Percy to say something that contradicts him, something that will shine some light on one single flaw that he can grasp and unravel whatever web he's ensnared in.

"Nico," Percy answers, brows digging in confusion "You're Nico."

A groan as the last island of hope sinks away. Nico presses his hands to his eyes, digging the biting edge of his nails into skin that prickles in pain. His head throbs in confusion that cannot be sated, fueling a strange_ ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump_ that won't go away. He wants his heart to stop galloping, stop repeatedly slamming itself against his ribs. "No, no, no, no, no" he whispers

"Nico..." he winces at the sound of his name; a small piece of himself wants to answer, writhing in bitter agony at the way his name is pronounced.

"dude, what's wrong?"

"The camp-" Nico snaps, removing his hands from his eyes. "Camp Half-Blood-Reyna-the Statue" the words spill from a knotted tongue. "What about the war?"

Percy hesitates to reply. Artificial light basks a countenance of tanned skin in its pallid glory. The highlights of his hair, the glow of his eyes, Nico wanted to believe that Percy wasn't real. That he was once more that hero that could never be-

"Don't you remember, Nico?" Percy says at last, "The war. Gaea. The prophecy. All of that ended four years ago."

* * *

**Concluding Note: **I adore it when creativity flows so easily. It's fun to write in a staccato-ish way; in a way that seems completely haphazard till a certain point where each and every point begins to connect and viola! a plot had been built. Anyways, the theme for this chapter was "Years Gone By" from the very same website as afore. This chapter is exactly 582 words.


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